


The Silver Ship

by cenobitesquid



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BlackIce, Golden Age, M/M, Magic, Pirates, Science Fiction, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 06:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenobitesquid/pseuds/cenobitesquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack had always dreamed of getting away from the back alleys and gutters of the dingy backwater spaceport he called home.  He gets his chance, and the search for a lost artifact leads his path to cross with the infamous cutthroat Pitch Black, who raids the pathways between the stars with his black galleon, The Nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lunar Coin

Jack had been born in winter, though he didn't know it.  His first memory was of the cold, and of the dank, dirty little hole he called his own, under a piling at the secondary launch dock.  It rattled and shook off showers of frosted rust and dirt whenever a ship shot down the runway, and he watched through a ragged hole in the corrugated metal that served him as a roof as they lifted off, their thrusters glowing with a brief surge of almost blinding light, then disappear, like magic.  

 

Sometimes he tried to think  back to the people who must have helped him as an infant, must have had some reason to care enough to feed him.  Someone with an old blanket and some table scraps, some woman with a gaggle of children already holding him to her breast in sympathy, but leaving him again when the demands of the mouths she already had to feed were too much.  Regretfully, he remembered none of that.  He was small, but he was tough and wiry, and despite being so young he provided for himself now.  His fingers were nimble in pockets, and around the corners of food stalls and lunch counters.  When he was caught, his little feet darted untraceable zigzags through the crowds, and disappeared into back alleys.  He went wherever he liked, and was mostly alone.  It wasn't that he liked being alone, he reasoned, but it was dangerous to trust anyone.  At the port, everyone looked after themselves, whether it was at the bottom of a glass, buried in a paid woman's breasts, or huddled on a street corner with a tin dish.  It was a rough place, a backwater space port half-forgotten and rusting a slow death, as fewer routes chose to cut through that way, and Jack had never known anything else.  But he wanted to.  Gazing at the stars, he knew he would get away.  He would make a chance, when he stood a little taller, and his limbs were stronger, he would know richer sights.  Real forests, real sand.  He listened to the sailors in the taverns, hidden away, and he had learned of such things.  A planet of silver palaces, one of poisonous jungles, one of desert ruby mines, and monsters on the sea Pathways out between the distant stars.

 

~

 

The silver coin shone like a tiny moon caught far below in the grating.  Jack was combing the back byways, his streets, looking for anything of interest, anything useful, like a rich stranger wandered too far off course from their lodging, or a weathered dock worker or mechanic on their way home and in a charitable mood who might go soft for a little boy's impossibly blue eyes and unbreakable grin, and slip him a couple of coppers for some hot soup.  The glint of silver stopped him in his tracks, and he crouched to look.  

 

Squinting through the murky shadows of the sewer, his heart caught in his chest as he realized it was not the cast off rubble of some streetcar wheel, or someone's cheap broken bauble, but a coin, heavy and smooth, laying face up, though he couldn't see the make.   He gasped in surprise, and quickly clapped his hand over his mouth as someone else took notice, a heavy-handed drunkard, a man Jack was familiar with by look and smell.  He was shoved out of the way gracelessly, as the man shoved his thick arm down the wedge of the sewer grate to grasp the coin.  But it was too deep, as he soon discovered with a burst of slurred curses.  He whirled to the boy, looking for someone to cuff in his frustration, but the little street urchin was long gone.  The man shrugged it off and went on his way, never to know what he had missed.  Down the street and around the corner of an alley, Jack's tiny pale fingers were prying at a manhole.  He ran down the ledge, careful not to slip into the sludge that ran through the round trough of the dank sewer tunnel, until he found the place where the coin lay, undisturbed still.  He could barely believe it, as his fingers closed around it. 

 

 

He clutched it in one hand, knuckles white, as he scrambled back up to the world above.   He knew little enough of currencies and exchange rates, he saw only little copper alms, and scraps of barter tags that were sometimes shoved into his grimy hands in the occasional moment of charity or more often in an attempt to chase him away from a doorstep.   But though he was vastly ignorant of such things, anyone would know a Lunar coin when they saw one.  This meant more than a warm meal and a new pair of boots.  More than a room at an inn for a couple of weeks, or months.  This was something even better.  An opportunity he could barely wrap his mind around.  THIS coin was his ticket out, to a different life.  So valuable that he couldn't spend it, not when he was so small and defenseless.  It would be snatched from him, stolen, and he would have nothing again.  Who would believe a boy like him could have such a valuable coin, after all?  If anyone even suspected, he would be gutted and left to rot in the street in an eye blink.  

 

Sitting in his hovel, which was little more than splintered wood stilts holding up the corrugated metal, spliced together with tied wires salvaged from a scrapyard, and battened down with shreds of tarps against the damp and wind, he huddled and thought about it, the coin shining dully in his open palm.  He would not be defenseless forever.  He dreamed of the day no one would be able to push him around.  When he could walk where he liked, no holds barred, step into any fancy store or bakery, and have what he would.  He knew, even then, standing waist-high to a man, what kind of life he would make for himself.  He just hadn't known how.  But now he knew, and an impish grin broke out over his features.

 

~

 

Jack kept the coin for eight years.  Wrapped against his body, sewn into his clothes, clutched tightly in his hand while he slept, he kept it safe.  And midwinter into the year he would have had his fifteenth birthday (if he'd known when it was), he finally found what he'd been waiting for.  

 

The deal was done hurriedly, in the back room of the Green Fairy.  The owners of the tavern were friendly to Jack, he'd once chased off some punks who'd been looking to loot the place.  After the incident, he took to hanging around.  It was a nice enough joint considering, and the keeper's wife had a soft spot for him.  She was a bright green feathered creature, too young and lively to be shackled down to a tedious life like that, Jack always thought.  He felt a sort of kinship with her, and she seemed to be cheered by his company, so he occasionally made himself useful, in ways that a street-born kid can sometimes be.  Most importantly, he'd confided his secret in her, the only one that meant anything, his Lunar coin.  He'd asked her for help, asked her to keep an eye out for one thing in particular, and today she'd come through for him.

 

Jack sat in the smoky back room, his own gaze carefully cool and unaffected as the sweaty-palmed captain across from him folded and unfolded the ownership deed of his ship.  It was a small ship.  Light armaments, one mounted gun in a turret on top, a sleek design that looked more like an overblown speed boat with double wings than the grandiose galleon Jack had been dreaming of.  Still, it was a start.  And it was fully provisioned, ammo for the mounted gun, water and dried food stores in the hold.  He obviously didn't want to part with it.  Didn't think the price was exactly fair, but he was out of time, and needed the money desperately.   It was a matter of life and death, and the deed had a black mark on it…it wasn't really his to sell anymore, and had he tried to go to anyone on the black market, they would have realized the price on his head was more valuable than a good deal on his junker of a ship, and he'd have been neck deep in it before he could blink.  Fortunately for him, Jack didn't care what his head was currently going for on the black market.  With a crescent grin, Jack flipped the silver coin between his fingers, his companion through so many bleak hungry nights, and plunked it down on the table between them, scooping up the paperwork and an ignition keyswitch with his other hand as he did.  

 

"Deal's a deal.  Well, I'd say it was nice knowing you, but I don't.  Hope you don't get killed on your way outta town."   His grin didn't flicker, and though excitement was surging through him, he kept it leashed until the man was truly out of the way.

 

"Hey kid."  He mopped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, eyes darting towards the door, ready to bolt at the sounds of an ambush.  "Stay away from the big ports on that thing, they'll be looking for it."

 

"For awhile, anyway."  Jack laughed.  "Go on, you old geezer, before you give yourself a heart attack."

 

The man scooped up the coin and bolted, headed for the anonymity of a convoy transport, no doubt, ready to try to be someone else, somewhere else.  And so was Jack. 

 

~

 

The ship was his.  He ran his hand down the silver hull.  It was beautiful, in a way.  An old ship, sure, an outdated model.  The ship had an unbroken chrome finish once, though it had dulled with time.  Color and ornament had come into popularity with ships again, it was rare to see one this sleek and simple. Three small wheels folded out in a wide, balanced straddle, the back thrusters were long cylindrical barrels.  The wings were triangular and long, tapering up at the outer tips.  Above the wheels, two long hulls stretched the length of the ship, balanced catamaran-style against the body of the ship, designed for minimal drag in the air, and to skim the waves when traveling overwater.  The name of the ship was painted in a bold slanting script along the nose, _The Quicksilver_. It was perfect, to his eyes, and it was all his, every bolt, every rivet, every switch.

 

The next step was a crew.  The ship could hold at least a dozen able bodies comfortably, but the least it would need for travel was a mechanic for the engine room,  and a gunner for the top turret, with himself in the cockpit.  He had an idea of how to go about it, but it would take some subtlety and tact.  After all, he wasn't going to pass clearance out of this refuse heap that called itself a port, he was going to have to make a smart break for it, and lose anyone following hot on his tail into the Pathway.  Then again, the official patrols here were never hot on the tail of anything, more like limping along with decrepit protests.  No, the biggest problem was that Jack had never actually flown a ship.  He collected manuals, he had a stack of them yellowed and roach-eaten at the corners, he knew about the internal workings of all kinds of ships, knew what each part was called, knew where the fuel tanks were, and how to start the ignition sequence, and the conversion sequences between flight and sail, space thrusters and wind propellers and anchor drops.  He'd read enough manuals that he could identify almost every ship that came through port, and the ones he couldn't, he asked about, and snuck into hangars to study them.  And he was sure he was going to get the knack of it when he was in the air.  Sitting in the cockpit of his new ship, hidden out of sight beneath piles of old tarps and canvas and some garbage filled in around the base for further camouflage, he settled his hands on the flight levers and leaned back in the chair, eyes on the blank reading screens, looking out the glass front at the familiar sight of his abandoned launch dock.  He knew he could do it.  At least, he was pretty sure.  Anyway, he was even more sure that he wasn't going to get an experienced pilot onboard with him, when he had nothing to offer but the vague potential of -somewhere else- to guide him. 

 

~

 

The gunner was easier to find than he expected.  He'd seen him around, a boy his own age, in and around the docks.  Unlike Jack, though, Jamie had a family of sorts, and he'd been on a ship before.  He'd been paid as a cabin boy on a couple of local merchant runs, his father worked in a parts warehouse, and his mother waited tables.  They holed up in one of the tall steel tenement hive buildings, cramped and noisy.  Jamie told him about it as they sat on the wing of Jack's ship, legs dangling over the edge, looking though the square opening of the launch ramp out at the faint spattering of stars.  Jack had followed him, then approached him, and was surprised at how quickly they'd become friends.  Jack had never had a friend, never felt he could trust anyone.  So though he had whipped the tarp cover off his ship with a show of triumphant panache, something had clicked over one turn in his heart, flooding him with some emotion he'd never felt before, and couldn't easily place, as Jamie's eyes widened, impressed.  Then it was a babble of words and stories, as the two boys, roughly the same age though Jack would be hard-pressed to name his own age exactly, talked about their lives and dreams.

 

"I liked sailing the Pathways.  You'd like it too, I think.  It's beautiful out there, nothing like here in port.  The stars are so bright, all around you.  There's wind, too, and when it's blowing your direction, you just put up the sails, and the ship cuts through the water.  Well, I mean, it isn't water..it's medium.  Y'know.  The sailors on my second trip called it star sludge."  Jamie gave a little grin as Jack laughed, impressed. 

 

"Yeah, the sailing was fun.  But the work was pretty hard, and the worst part of it was the men."  He made a distasteful face and Jack frowned, immediately concerned.

 

"They didn't…?"

 

"Oh! No, not like that.  Well, I mean, I think they might have figured that as part of my job description, but I wasn't very keen on the idea.  They were always shoving me around and ordering me to do things, and pulling pranks at my expense.  And I had to clean up after them, and they were pretty gross, on the whole.  Scraping barnacles is a walk in the park compared to those ship latrines."

 

Jack made a face.  "Well, then I'm sure you'll like it better on a smaller ship, in good company.  By the way, if you were only a cabin boy, why did they let you use the guns? Were you in a fight?"

 

"Wellll… they didn't exactly.. I mean I haven't REALLY…"

 

 

"You've never shot a turret gun before? What makes you think you can?"

 

"Watch this."  Jamie's eyes twinkled, and he grinned, whipping out a slingshot and a metal machine nut the size of a shooter marble.  He took aim, pulling the slingshot back as far as his armspan would allow, and let loose.  A crunch and a high pitched animal shriek escaped his target, a sizable rat that had been skulking in the shadow of some garbage.  

 

"Besides.  I've got a pellet gun, too.  I'm the best shot around. "

 

Well, what the hell.  A pilot who's never flown deserves a gunner who's never shot anything down.  He grinned.  Maybe it'd double their beginner's luck.  Besides, he felt he could trust Jamie, and that was worth more than years of experience in the skies, as far as Jack was concerned.  What he saw in Jamie's eyes mirrored his own.  Hatred of this place, longing for adventure, to make a name for themselves, to be something special.  To be noticed, to be envied or admired, anything other than the pity, disgust, and indifference they were used to.  And to have a friend, that was something Jack hadn't known he was missing, as he was swiftly realizing.  It felt good to sit and laugh with Jamie, to show him his secret hoard and know that someone else felt the same excitement about it.  It was something he hadn't dared hope for, or even think about before, and he could tell it would be the same out there, in the thick of the unknown. 

 

"All right, but I still need a mechanic.  And a safe port to shoot for. "

 

Jaimie brightened.  "I know someone! Come on, I'll take you to the docks to meet him.  Maybe he'll come with us? I mean, it's dangerous and we don't exactly have any money, but we were sort of friends, back on the Titania--one of the ships I crewed on.  Maybe I could ask him a favor?"

 

"Guess there's no harm in asking."

 

~

 

 

"Hey, are you sure we can trust this guy?"  Jack stared across the tavern at the object of their inquiry.  He cut an imposing figure, greying black hair and mustache, heavy brow and a long beard.  His shoulders were broad, and he wore a dusty red coat, rolled up at the sleeves to show faded sailor's tattoos down his forearms, and some writing too, Jack wondered what it said. 

 

"I know what it looks like, and he's pretty fierce, but he's my friend.  He stopped the other men from roughing me up, one time.  He used to be a ship builder..but that was somewhere else, I think."

 

"If you say so."  Jack looked doubtful, but he straightened up dusted off his shirt and cloak, and strolled over, confident enough. 

 

" 'Evening to you, sir!" He plopped down across from him at his table without waiting for an invitation, undaunted when the man's brows knit together to a frown.  "My name's Jack, I'm a friend of Jamie's."

 

Jack had been getting a little nervous, but when Jamie stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck a little bashfully (he would have gone about this whole thing a bit more politely, he thought) the man's expression seemed to lighten, almost instantly.

 

"Ah, Jamie! Sit.  Who is this strange boy?"  The man cocked a glance at Jack.  "Jack, eh? Why is it you are making my acquaintance so suddenly? No--business later, drinks first.  Jamie, I am never seeing you anymore! Have you tired of ships?"  He grinned, and beckoned over the waitress, ordering two apple ciders and more sugar-roasted nuts. 

 

"Ah, no, I've been…er.  Busy.  Nevermind, listen, we need to ask a favor. "  He looked over at Jack, who was accepting his apple cider with a grin.

 

"What? Oh! Yes."  He set it down, and straightened his shoulders, all business.  

 

"You see, I have in my possession a ship, and I'm going to set sail into the Pathways.  Problem is, I need someone on deck handy with machines.  And, well, maybe maps too, since I don't exactly have the course entirely mapped."

 

"Oh?"  Nicholas's eyes crinkled around the edges, amused, as if he didn't quite believe the yarn he was being spun.  "And where is it you are sailing to, hmm?

 

"Weeellll…"  Jack ran his hand back through his unruly hair, shaggy and silvery white.

 

"You do not know? Hah! How is it you will be setting course to there, Jack?  Seems to me, perhaps this journey is a bit, how you say, unsanctioned?  Are you having a launch clearance too, then?" 

 

"Eh-heh, well, it's only a minor technicality.  The ship's fully provisioned, and fueled, and armed, too! You know how these Constellation guard rigs are, slow as a guttersnail. Besides, why do they get to say who comes and goes, and when? I haven't broken any laws, but I don't have any papers either.  I was born here, not that anyone knows it, but I couldn't get launch clearance even if I asked nicely."  A dark cloud had passed over Jack's features, briefly, by the time he had finished talking.  Nicholas pondered, watching the boy, and glancing at Jamie, who had been quiet while Jack spoke.  Hopeful even, as if Nicholas coming along would tilt the scales for them.

 

"Well boys, you are in luck.  I know just the one for this job.  You will like her!  She is new in town, and I think, ready to get back out of town pretty quick."

 

Jamie looked strained.  "So, you won't come?"

 

"Jamie, I wish you luck.  I cannot say I particularly approve of you getting mixed up in this business, but I understand.  Sometimes, one must choose the less evil thing.  I assume that your parents, they do not know you are going?"

 

Jamie's eyes downcast, and he shook his head.

 

"Ah well! Let the fishes nibble their eyes, they never deserved such a boy as you are, Jamie.  You make a fine sailor! Do not forget all those things I taught you, yes?"

 

Jamie laughed then, coming around reluctantly to Nick's good humor.  While they were talking, Jack had been side-eyeing the man's tattoos, and straightened quickly when he was caught at it.  With a grin, Nick cracked his knuckles and showed both fists to Jack.  The letters across the fingers, under the ridge of knuckles read SINK - SWIM.  He realized that the "Sink" side had a rather beautiful image of a tall sailing ship, head on so that the bulkhead showed center.  There were names curving the sides of the ship, laddering down the curve of his forearm into the drawn waves, and coils of sea serpents.   

 

"A reminder for me, of what is important." 

 

Jack frowned, faintly, and leaned back in his chair with his apple cider, deciding now was the wrong time to pry.  

 

"Hey.. thanks for this.  When can we meet your mechanic?"

 

"I will send her here tomorrow! Same time.  She is easy to spot, just look for green feathers."

 

Jack blinked.  Surely not his friend Toothiana, the innkeeper's wife? He knew for a fact she knew nothing about ship maintenance.  So then, maybe a different sort of green feathered girl entirely.  But he couldn't shake her image, maybe it was someone from the same planet that she was? Maybe they even knew each other.  His mind raced with questions and possibilities. 

 

Later that night, he was alone again, but he couldn't sleep.  He settled in the pilot's seat of his ship, and gazed through the smog and light pollution at the stars.  He was so close to leaving this place, finally getting the hell out.  Tomorrow he would have his final crew member, tomorrow they would lay plans for an escape.  Eventually his eyes closed, his fingers went slack on the controls, and he let himself drift into a dreamless darkness.

 

~

 

The next day, Jack showed up a little early to their meeting place, sliding into a table near the back and scanning the crowd eagerly.  Jamie had stayed home, he was organizing what little he had of his life in loose ends and scant possessions, getting ready to leave this port, and his parents, behind.  Jack had been vaguely jealous when he had heard about Jamie's parents, but the feeling soon dissipated.  Jamie was one of 6 other siblings, they basically took care of each other as much as they could, with their parents out working from before dawn to past dusk, and in no mood for games or compassion when they were home. 

 

He was drawn from his thoughts at a flash of green at the doorway.  She did look like Toothiana! But it wasn't her.  The little figure boldly pushing her way past the tavern patrons had none of Toothiana's cheerful grace.  She was dressed in a leather cargo vest and work pants rolled up to the knee.  A utility belt was cinched around her waist, with pockets and hooks for tools and ropes.  She spotted him a moment later.. Nicholas must have told her to look for a punk-looking kid with snow white hair, he smirked to himself as she flitted over.  

 

He couldn't help but stare at her wings, they were so gossamer and colorful.  Toothiana must have had them too, but she kept hers covered under a cloak.  The girl tilted her head at him, then grinned widely.  

 

"You're kind of cute! Little young to be ship's captain though, am I right?"  Jack was a bit taken aback.  It was the first time in his life someone had ever complimented and insulted him in the same breath.  He was more accustomed to insults, anyway, so he just laughed. 

 

"I'm Jack, nice to meet you."  He gestured for her to sit, and she hopped onto the chair, folding her legs beneath her, still grinning, eyes pinned to Jack's face.

 

"So, what's your name?"

 

"Oh, you can't pronounce it."  She stated matter-of-factly.  "  I had a nickname on my last ship, but it was crap."  Her face scrunched up. 

 

"Your nickname was Crap?"  Jack smirked, amused and trying to bait her for her comment about being too young to be a captain earlier.

 

"No!" Her feathers ruffled in irritation.  "I mean I didn't like it.  You might as well give me a different one.  But nothing stupid, okay?"

 

"What's your real name?"

 

She affixed him with a long-suffering look, and then chirped out a long string of cheeps and trills, her crest rising halfway through, and settling slowly down again.  Jack looked thoughtful, but he was decent at imitating birdcalls, so he gave it a shot.  The girl looked mortified.  

 

"Oops, what did I say?"  Jack shrugged apologetically, and grinned, then she burst into laughter.  "NOT anything close to my name at ALL.  Besides, it's not my name if your crest doesn't move?  Er, hair, I guess you call it."

 

Jack ruffled his fingers through his hair, standing it up, and laughing.  "Well it doesn't do that on it's own."

 

"Oh, yeah.  It just sits there all dead and floppy."  Tooth screwed up her face again.  "Mammals are so weird.  No offense"  Jack laughed, taking none. 

 

"So, let me tell you about my ship, the Quicksilver.  I'm going to pilot it myself, and I have a gunner, Jamie.  He's young too… but then, you look pretty young to be a mechanic, so there shouldn't be a problem, right?"  He eyed the girl, and she grinned.  

 

"Sensitive, aren't we!"  

 

"No!" Jack bristled, then shook his head.  "Anyway, I was born in this shithole, and I'm getting the hell out.  My plan is to raid merchant vessels, no one ever does that with a space glider ship, because you can't fit much of a crew on one, and can't haul the full load of goods.  But, why is that important?  Split three ways, we won't need to pirate much to have anything we want.  We strike at the large ships, avoid a big fight, steal whatever we can fit on the Quicksilver, and be gone before they can rally, or call in the military. "

 

"Hmm! Seems like a good plan.  I always wanted to be on a pirate ship! And you're the nicest looking pirate I ever met."

 

Jack laughed again at this, "Well I'm not a pirate yet, just piracy-hopeful.  We have to get past the guards at the portal, first."

 

"Ah, pst, easy as cake."

 

"Say, is it okay if I call you Baby Tooth?  Before I met Jamie I only ever had one friend in this godforsaken place, and she was just like you… I mean, with the green feathers and the wings and all.  She helped me get my ship.  Her name was Toothiana.  Maybe it'll be lucky to have you nicknamed after her?"

 

The girl cocked her head to one side, considering the nickname.  "Well.  All right!" She chirped, and looked around.  "Let's get some food, I'm starving."

 

Jack was pleased.  His crew was assembled, and it had been easier than he thought. 


	2. The Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, I have added on to the end of the first chapter, a short segment wherein Jack meets their third crew member for the first time. I ended up not having any room for it in this chapter. Anyway, read on, and enjoy! ^_^

Chapter 2  - The Nightmare 

 

Thick black smoke billowed up from the burning ship, blotting out swaths of stars that had been shining overhead, numerous as grains spilled from an overturned salt shaker.  As dawn crept closer, the choppy black waters were calmed, and under bruise colored clouds the roar of cannon fire and shouting was gradually replaced by faint cries for help, and the creak and crackle of a the burning star ship as it drifted over the sea.  Silhouetted against the flames of the drowning ship loomed the masts of black galleon, still on the water with its sails lashed, close enough to hear the music of despair filtering from the sinking vessel, lingering like a vulture over a corpse.

They had put on such a brave show, Pitch thought smugly, that little boat with it's precious cargo.  But he didn't like being lied to.  In the end, he had been relatively merciful; no torture, no toying with the vessel like a mouse caught in the sharp claws of a black cat, he had gotten what he had come for, and left them to the sea.  That was a mercy of sorts, considering.

The floundering vessel had been called The Orion's Boon, a civilian-owned schooner with a hired crew, bright blue and white sails, two masts,  rows of small gliders on deck, with wings and thrusters.  Most developed planets had off-world transport ferries for larger sailing ships like the Orion, so the presence of so many gliders for crew transport meant an expedition to a lesser-traveled planet, one without a shipping port, perhaps even uninhabited.  The Pathway portals were roads that ended at many destinations, not all of them particularly habitable or friendly.   The Orion was inconspicuous enough, on the whole, there were several reasons such a ship might be chartered, for ecological research or rare materials mining.  

But Pitch knew better.  A little bird had told one of his fearlings, under a pinch of duress, the expedition that this particular vessel had been planning to undertake.  Oh, unfortunately for them, they were after something Pitch wanted.  Something he had coveted for a long time.

He struck in silence, in the blackest part of the night.  Their searchlights were trained on the waters ahead, roiling with crests, sails battened down tight against the wind, which seemed to dive and dip, whipping the waves into frenzied swirls of star-studded darkness, clinging and sliding against the graceful curve of the ship's wide hull.  The first cannon blast sounded like a crack of thunder.  The hands rushed onto the deck in dismay, perhaps thinking they had struck some submerged debris.  The spotlights searched the darkness as the water started to pour in the hole in the aft.  

The galleon loomed out of nowhere, suddenly drawn right up to their starboard side.  A black pennant flew from the main mast, snapping in the wind. 

"Engage the energy shields! Man the guns! Pull about-face full thrust!  Engines full steam!"  Frantic commands went out over the ship, and the hands scurried like ants, sure-footed on the heaving deck. Below decks, coal was shoveled into furnaces, levers were cranked,  and the schooner started to turn out of parallel with the galleon as fast as it could.  Despite being almost twice it's size, Pitch's galleon was impossibly fast, too swift to outrun or outmaneuver.  It had once been the fastest ship in the Golden Army's fleet, a special design, of which the blueprints had been destroyed.  Impenetrable armor, three rows of cannons, three masts, and every inch of it a matte black that was a hole against the starry backdrop of space, a shadow shape, a specter.   She was called The Nightmare, and when ships caught sight of her they ran, only standing to fight when they were hopelessly outpaced. 

The waves crashed, and the galleon pulled broadside to the schooner again, letting loose another volley of cannon fire.  Some of the blasts were stopped by the ship's forcefield, glowing a wavering blue, shining through and over the planks of the ship's wooden exterior.  Others, the blasts glowing with a purple-edged dark light, crashed straight through the shields, sinking gaping holes into the metal framework of the schooner's hull.  On the deck of the Nightmare, poised with one hand on the ship's wheel, stood Pitch, shoulders squared and still in stark contrast to the creatures that roamed and crawled the decks of the ship.  It was only faintly illuminated in the sparse starlight,  and the figures seemed faceless and horribly amorphous, surging up the rigging, clinging to the rails with steel hooks glinting in clawed hands.   The passenger ship fired back, and though the cannonballs hit their mark, there was no crashing explosion of shattering planks, or moaning of bent metal.  It was as if the artillery was swallowed, vanished into the mass of the galleon.  

"No one escapes! And keep them all alive! Go!"  Pitch's voice hissed out over the wind, the shadow-creatures surged and agitated at his command, clustering to the rails, wide eyes glowing fervently in the gloom. 

The Orion's crew was making haste to abandon ship via the smaller crafts parked on deck when they were boarded.  The two ships crashed together with a splintering shudder, and the shadow-creatures surged aboard.  Pitch stayed on his own ship to watch, a wicked grin gleaming against his ashen skin.   The crew put up some resistance, but they fell none the less, immobilized, knocked unconscious, but his fearing men showed impressive restraint.  They were rounded and trapped, bleeding and shivering and bonelessly heaped on the main deck, as Pitch threw across a plank and boarded, ominously sure footed on the narrow plank, in defiance of the high winds whipping his gold-embroidered long coat, and the braid on his epaulettes.  He had a long bladed harpoon in one hand, with a wickedly jagged edge, and a smooth and confident smirk stretched across thin lips.   His eyes gleamed as silver as the stars overhead, as he stepped among the captives, who stilled their groaning when they registered his presence.   He tilted up the chin of one sailor with the point of his harpoon in a parody of casual familiarity, though the blade nicked to draw blood.  "Who commissioned this voyage? Are they on board?"  His eyes moved across the assembled figures critically, trying to spot the anomaly in their midst, the passenger among the sailors.   He pulled his blade away from the man's neck, and stalked over to a particularly wilted-looking human specimen, trembling and clutching onto a rope on the side of the main mast white-knuckled - as if worried someone was going to pick them up bodily and heavy them over the side.  

"You, who are you?"  His shadow fell over his target, seeming to quiver and writhe on the planks, shifting though Pitch himself stood impassively still.

"W-william." 

"Well William.  You're no sailor, why are you on this ship? Where are you headed?"

Pitch barely listened to the uninteresting cover story that he barely managed to stutter out.  

"I don't want to hear lies, William.  Do you know what I want?  I want the Key.  I know it is on this ship somewhere.  Why don't you tell me where it is?  Or shall I have the fearlings start throwing your crew overboard?"  A sweeping gesture with his harpoon pointed out a fearing, chittering excitedly, it's long fingers wrapped around the neck of one of the sailors, who was thrashing ineffectually in it's grip, being held half-over the railing.  William's eyes widened, but he was silent, in a sudden show of courage, perhaps.   No matter.  

"Drop him."  The sailor yelled out as he fell, silenced by a splash, but sputtering up to the surface again, calling out for help.  "The next one won't be so lucky.  I'll cut out their tongue first, and they will drown on their own blood before they drown in the star sea."  He mused, drawing closer to the slight man still clutching the mast rope, leaning close, his face contorting.  "TELL ME WHERE IT IS!"  The force of his sudden anger, after the previous diplomatic smoothness of his tone startled the man and he made a little desperate noise, scrambling to his feet to get further away from Pitch.

"I don't know what you're talking about! I'm headed to the Islands of Capricorn to study ocean life, I swear I don't know anything about a key!"   

Pitch's anger subsided again, rolling back like a calm wave, and he smiled.  "Ah, perhaps I have the wrong ship after all.  I'll just leave you and your crew alone then, and be on my way, shall I?"  

His gaze flickered to another shadow-creature, and he held out a hand.  It slunk over, grinning, seeming in the uncertain light to be more a loping beast than a man, a long neck and pointed ears, it slid it's pointed shoulder against Pitch's fingers, like a wolfhound at it's master's call, except those long-fingered hands it still had at the ends of it's bony arms. 

"Eat him."  One of the captives screamed, broke away from the others, past the shadow men and rushed up to their feet, throwing themselves in front of William, a shield between him and the beast.  She looked up at Pitch, fear and hatred mingling equally in her flashing eyes.  

"If I show you where it is, will you take it and leave?"  Her voice did not waver.  She cut an almost heroic figure there on the deck, her torn clothing whipping around her, and her light brunette hair streaming in a tangle over her eyes, catching around her neck. 

"I will take it, and I will leave, girl.  I give you my word.  Show me where it is."

William caught her arm, alarmed.  "Sasha, no! He'll kill us all anyway, the Key is better off at the bottom of the star sea than in his hands!"

The woman paled, casting her eyes back at him, full of concern.  "I have to do something.  I just can't sit and watch our crew be tortured.  If there's a chance we might be spared, I have to try."

"Ah, such a sweet girl.  Is she yours, William?"  Pitch caught the woman by both shoulders and jerked her backwards out of William's grip, leaning forward to inhale the scent of her hair.   "Do I smell young, hopeful love? Don't worry, darling, I'll bring you back to him when I'm through."  

And he kept his word, at that.  She led him belowdecks, to a hold, where a pried up plank revealed a small locked box hidden in the floor.  She had the key to the box on a cord around her neck, and with shaking fingers, she opened it, and held it out to Pitch, stepping away nervously when it was grasped in his hands.  He gazed down at the artifact, a wicked smile curving his lips. 

"Yes…yes.  There you are.  Oh, so pretty.  Such a little thing, and so very important."

His dark-stained fingers pulled it carefully from it's box, and he let the small wooden chest simply drop to the floor, as he closed his hand around it and grabbed Sasha by her hair, dragging her back up to the main deck despite her noises of protestation and her nails clawing at his forearm.  Above deck, the fearlings had been destroying the escape-gliders while they were busy below, and now one of them held a torch, though it looked a bit queasy at the proximity of the flickering flame. 

Pitch took the torch and touched it to the main mast, now streaked in inky black, an oily secretion that had oozed from his fearlings into the wood grain of the ship deck, wherever they had trodden.   The woman Sasha screamed, and clutched dear William's vest.  Pitch smiled, the fire lighting his silver eyes a sparkling gold hue, as several crew members jumped overboard to save themselves from the flames.   He was just composing his parting shot to the doomed lovers, when something caught his eye in the near distance, causing his smile to falter.  He stepped back quickly to avoid a racing line of flame, and turned his head, searching for the glimpse of silver he had seen streaking overhead.  

There it was again.  The little ship that had been following him.  His eyes narrowed.  It had been weeks since he had first spotted it, an insignificant old-world model glider ship,  the sort of vessel that had nothing to do with him, as inadequately armed and manned as it was.  One well-placed shot would make scrap metal of the thing, but it had been so careful to stay just out of reach of his guns.  He had begun to be somewhat curious. A spy, perhaps?  The Nightmare was easy to lose, she disappeared and reappeared on the dark seas at will.  But he hadn't managed to shake this little pestering insect.  No matter.  He boarded his own ship again and forgot about the matter, clearly it was beneath him, with so many more interesting things to be worrying about.  What was to be gained by spying, after all?  The Nightmare was an unstoppable force on these waters, the Golden Armada of the Constellations had tried and failed again and again to run him down and sink him.  So let the little pest see what he could see, it made no difference to Pitch.

He uncurled his long fingers, and in the center of his palm gleamed a silver key, of sorts.  It was slender and cylindrical in shape, and polished to a soft glowing shine, run through a top loop with a fine silver chain.  Runes were scrolled all the way around the body of the object, and there seemed to be fine cracks in it, where it might come apart if prompted.  He clenched his hand closed, snarling at a shadow-creature who loomed too close in it's curiosity, and strode off to his quarters to more closely examine his prize in privacy.

~

One year earlier, this had all seemed like a much better idea to Jack. 

 

Babytooth had been the one to overhear the tale of the Lunar Artifact, her crest rising in excitement as she eavesdropped on the hushed conversation between two patched and frightful looking seamen in the pirates' port of New Capricorn. 

"Aye, 'twas in a temple back on the Old World, where the Star Kings hail from- some pair of planet-lubbers found a chest of scrolls, all dustier than yer gran's nethers. Mostly the kind of shite that wizards care about, but one of 'em wasn't just a wormy history lesson- one was a map! And d'yknow what that map had on it?"  The first pirate leaned closer to his companion, who shook his long mustaches eagerly, neither of them noticing the little green feathered girl peering down from the tavern rafters. 

"The location of one of the Lunar Relics! Something not even the Constellations have anymore, some power that would change the nature of Pathtravel itself! I heard, it can make whoever holds it completely untouchable. The whole Golden Army couldn't stop ye, if that relic was on your ship, that's what they're sayin'." 

The second pirate's round little eyes lit up in his grey-furred face, and he stroked his beard excitedly, saying something that was either in a different language or just so garbled that Babytooth couldn't decipher it.  The first pirate's shoulder sunk. 

"Ah, no chance of that mate, no chance at all I'm afraid. You know the whole fleet is out, trying to find it and keep it safe. And what's more…" He glanced fearfully into the shadows as if he was afraid they might be listening. "Pitch Black is on the trail of it, and stars help the fool who gets between the Nightmare and what it wants. The shady lot over there told me they found a wreck drifting dead in the juice last week, off the rings of Saturn… Pitch skinned some poor sod who knew about the map, and whatever expedition the royals are sponsoring to go find the treasure."  He shuddered and spat between his fingers (a common way to ward off the bad luck that was said to follow those who spoke the name of the Nightmare's captain.)

Babytooth had flitted back to the deck of the Quicksilver, chirping excitedly as she related all of what she'd heard. 

Jack had been collecting stories about Pitch from port to port, intrigued by the long shadow he cast and the terror he inspired in the sailors of the Pathways. Jack laughed and seemed immune to the common superstitions that surrounded the infamous pirate; Pitch was just a man, he was sure. But a clever man who had built his reputation carefully and tended the aura of fear he exuded to his advantage.   
As a captain, and as an aspiring pirate himself, Jack felt he could learn something from studying such a fellow.   
 

 

From their first scraping take-off from Port Burgess (a rocky maiden flight for Jack), they'd actively had been pursued by authorities.   
The Quicksilver had barely cleared the first portal, the ship's fins wobbling precariously as he'd steered through the closing gap in the wake of a larger ship.  Jack had been sure they weren't going to make it, that the Pathway would close on them and they'd be snuffed out of existence, or else left behind and the Constellation Constable would have them all in chains before they'd even made their first voyage….. but then they'd slipped through, silent and quick as a little silver fish, and they hit the star-sea at full steam.   

They'd been wild with excitement and the thrill of freedom, darting about from port to exotic port with gleeful abandon.   
When their first batch of supplies ran low, they struck down a merchant ship.They made their plan of attack together and executed it smoothly, the little vessel easily sniping the ship's thrusters and deck guns, effectively pulling the wings and stingers off their buzzing target.  Tooth was the excavator.  They dropped her out of the ship overhead, sticks of dynamite in each hand, and slim strong rope cables strapped across her chest, a bright buoy clipped to one hip to mark her plunder in the water.   She evaded fight and capture, and blew a hole in the side of the hold, spilling out barrels of goods, pocketing stray coins, and tying what wouldn't float with the rope and buoy, darting out into the air again while the crew scrambled to pump out the star sea water, and emergency patch their vessel.     
A strong current carried the rest of the goods away from the stalled merchant vessel, and the Quicksilver perched delicately on the waves to scoop it up as it went past. They took no prisoners, and shot only to cripple the ship's defenses, not injure any of the crew.

When they'd hauled up as much loot as they could carry, the grinning trio zipped off into the twilight with barrels of strange fruits and dried fish, as well as fancy coats for the lot of them, comically oversized, since the three of them were only half the size of an average sailor, but they wore them anyway and laughed. 

It was a good haul- once sold, it was nearly enough to buy a bigger ship with, an option which they considered for awhile.  In the end, they decided that the fewer people involved in this sort of operation the better; besides, they had all grown very fond of the Quicksilver.  She was a surprisingly able and versatile ship, and before long it had a bit of deserved infamy to it's name. 

 Jack seemed, of all of them, the most affected by the idea of reputation. 

"Someday, everyone will have heard of us. They'll talk about us on every planet, in every port… we'll live forever in the stories they're gonna tell about us. There won't be a kid alive that doesn't want to be a pirate once they hear about what we've done." He had big plans, he wanted to go everywhere, see everything.  He had a dimensional galactic map in the center the main deck of the ship, and he put a glowing mark on every place of significance they had gone, a red mark for a successful plunder, a white mark for a discovery or an adventure. 

That was why Jack broke into the biggest, most mischievous grin of all when he heard what Babytooth had to say about the Lunar Artifact, and the dangerous criminal in pursuit of it. What better way to be known than to snatch something out from under the nose of Pitch Black the Infamous and the Dreaded Nightmare Galleon?  

"This is it! HA! This is our chance! I can't believe it-- this is just what we've been waiting for, guys! We're finally gonna do something so awesome that the whole kingdom will know about us!" 

Jamie and Baby Tooth looked at each other skeptically when Jack laughed gleefully and began plotting a course to the Pathway headwater around Saturn, but they heard him out.  Jack never steered them too far wrong, even when his schemes seemed crazily half-baked.    
Jamie was the most cautious of the three of them, but he was fiercely loyal to Jack, without whom he knew he would be stuck in the muddy misery of Port Burgess, maybe for the rest of his life.  And even if they died horribly in a shipwreck, or were executed by the Constellation Court, he wouldn't have traded their newfound adventures and camaraderie for anything.

So when Jack said they were going to start following the Nightmare, the most dangerous ship in the galaxy, and obtaining the treasure Pitch aimed to steal for himself-- they just shrugged and hunkered down to come up with a brilliant and cunning plan.

 

___

 

When the Nightmare caught up with the Orion, the crew of the Quicksilver watched breathlessly.  They had planned to let Pitch take the map (or key, as the rumors said), and then raid the Nightmare.  Partly because there were bound to be civilians aboard the Orion, maybe even children, so they wanted to avoid a gunfight, and because the challenge of taking on the Nightmare herself was far greater, basically meaning they would have bragging rights until the end of time, and would have made a -real- name for themselves in the Pathways.  

They all knew the rumors of Pitch's ruthlessness, but seeing it first hand was something they had not been prepared for.  They watched the beautiful blue and gold Lunar ship spin helplessly in the water, gutted and cracked, the white sails burning like the wings of a huge moth in the darkness of pre-dawn. Jack thought about North, the craftsman and shipwright; how much care and love went into everything he worked on, the pride he felt for the ships he'd helped build. This would have broken his heart. What a sad, sad waste of a beautiful thing. 

And the sailors on the ship? The civilians? Had they gone up like kindling as well, while the dread captain watched?  They were too far away to tell, but they'd heard the cannon fire echoing in the night, and the splintering of wood and metal as the schooner had been broad-sided. 

"We have to go help the survivors."  Jamie's tone was somber, his brown eyes filled with guilt.  "We can't just sit here and… and watch them drown."

"The Nightmare is just sitting there.  We can't get close to the waterline or we'll be blown to smithereens by those canons."  Jack grimaced.  He could see stragglers clinging to boards and broken pieces of the mast, and others treading in open water below. "We have to stick to the plan, " he swallowed.

Baby Tooth hesitated, then nodded, eyes downcast.  "Jack's right.  If we go now, we won't be much help to them.   As soon as Pitch moves, we'll go help the survivors before we strike.  We can't take any of them onboard… but we can give them marker buoys and water rations.  This is a main shipping lane, another ship will come by soon enough.  I'm sure they put out a distress signal.  

Jamie's expression was grim, and he looked to Jack, silently asking if what they'd planned was worth this; if the greatest treasure in the kingdom was worth letting innocent people die. 

Jack knew Babytooth was right- help was probably already on the way, and there wasn't much they could do with their minimal resources and space. Maybe he shouldn't have cared; by all accounts, he was a pirate now, and rescuing people wasn't really part of a pirate's agenda. He'd chosen this path for himself. He didn't owe anyone anything. But he still felt his heart in his mouth, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the control panel, holding back a surge of helpless anger. 

There was a flash, then a slow surge of golden light along the horizon, splitting the sky from the sea in an unbroken line, and creeping up in an even glow.  It wasn't the light of any sun, it was a pulse within the tunnel-like Pathway itself, being lit along it's outer edges by the same Stellar magic that had formed these passages through space in the first place, at the dawn of the Golden Age.  

The Nightmare lurched suddenly in a surge of shadows; her sails dropped and unfurled with a snap, the wind filling them as she fled the oncoming wave of light.  Jamie caught his breath, excited.  This was their chance!  Pitch was leaving! The timing couldn't have been better.   

"Looks like it's time to go! Engaging sailing sequence.  Get ready for a water landing."  Jack hit a button then grabbed the controls, steering the Quicksilver into a sharp dive towards the water, and leveling out at the last minute, the wings of the craft folded slightly in, the double hulls lowered, and the the top covering split along a center seam and pulling back, leaving the main deck of the ship to the open air.   It splashed down into the water, with only a little bit of a jolt, that Jamie suspected Jack did on purpose, for the thrill of it. 

In the water, things looked grim.  Baby Tooth took off from the deck even before they touched down to the water, ropes, a whole bouquet of buoys, and packs of fresh water rations in both hands. 

Jamie had found an emergency inflatable lifeboat below, and had gotten it inflated and out into the water.  Several stragglers were tiredly making for it, and climbing on.  But they had come too late for most of them, it seemed.  Wreckage was everywhere, the fire was mostly out, and the main body of the ship sunk beneath the waves.   But pieces of it were everywhere, and the water was a minefield of wreckage, some with figures clinging conscious or unconscious to the scraps. They didn't have much time-- they needed to catch Pitch before his ship, with its superior speed in the water, could escape back into the dark phase of the Pathway.  

"Daylight" in the tunnels was the result of regular pulses of golden light, sent down the Pathways at intervals, traveling at set speeds.  If one followed Stellar regulation speed when traveling the Pathways, and traveled parallel with the path, in the correct direction and not cross-grain (as all of the merchant and passenger vessels did), night and day would occur in even 12 hour cycles.  12 hours of light, followed by 12 hours of darkness.  A ship traveling at half speed would get only 6 hours of daylight, before the darkness overtook them.  Of course, it was also possible to adjust one's speed to stay in pockets of darkness or light by traveling double-speed, which many military vessels did.  And of course, the black galleon they were currently pursuing. 

"Baby Tooth, cmon! We're late for an appointment.  What are you doing?"  Jack squinted into the distance, and revved the thrusters on the ship, the silver hulls cutting smoothly through the water, slow enough that he'd have time to steer out of the way of any survivors, or bodies in the water.   Baby Tooth was trying to fly with a body in tow, and crashing back into the water every couple of yards, unable to keep the extra weight in the air.  

"Jack! Jamie! Come over here!"  The boys exchanged looks, and then Jack steered closer.  A waterlogged Baby Tooth dragged a young woman on board, coughing and red-eyed, dripping a puddle.  

"Baby Tooth…" Jack grimaced, hating himself a little for having to make the necessary call, "We can't afford take survivor's onboard! We're out of time, and there isn't room!"

"New plan, Jack."  Baby Tooth shook out her feathers fiercely.  "This is Sasha. She can help us. Tell him what you told me." She said gently to the gasping woman on the deck. 

Sasha looked up at the white haired boy who was captain of the little silver rescue ship, took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "I have the map." She said, shakily, her hand at the dangling chain around her neck. 

"But…" Jack faltered, " I thought Pitch stole the map from the Orion?  Isn't that what you guys were carrying?"

Sasha set her jaw. "I gave Pitch-"  she spat out the name of the pirate like a curse.  "I gave that madman the Key-- the one William found.  But from what we can tell, it will only open the gateway to the Artifact. But I have the map to get there and back again."

Jack's eyes widened.  "You do?  On you? Where?"

Sasha shook her head.  "It's in here."  She touched her index finger to her forehead, solemnly. "I have it memorized, every marking, every symbol, every line. I have a photographic memory; it's something I've always been able to do. The paper map sank with the ship, or was burned to ashes, I expect.  Pitch thought all he needed was the key, and its markings...  He's going to be disappointed when he can't read the runes."  Instead of a triumphant smile though, she only frowned, her eyes filled with an indescribable sorrow.  

"Did… you find a man with a blue vest, in the wreckage?  I heard him calling my name, and I swam through the wreckage looking.. but then I couldn't hear him calling anymore, and…"   

Beside her, Baby Tooth bit down on her lip, plumage flattening, and put a hand on her shoulder.  "The survivors on the raft said they were going to comb through the wreckage.  I haven't seen anyone in a blue vest, but maybe they will?"

Sasha looked miserably up at the feathered girl who had pulled her from the water, and then turned away, wiping away her tears with the heels of her hands.  "…Are you going to fight Pitch?" She asked quietly. 

"Yeah," It was Jack who answered, grinning despite the somber mood on deck.  "We're going to get that artifact back.  And I guess you're coming with us? Unless you want to stay with the survivors and look for…ah… Mr. Blue-Vest."  

Sasha looked torn, for a moment, then squared her shoulders.  "William wanted this treasure found more than anything else.  I don't know if he's alive or dead, but either way, he would want me to help you. And it's what I want too.  I don't know how much any of you know about the Lunar Artifact, but if Pitch Black gets his hands on it, the Constellations will be in grave danger. I will not let that happen." Her tear-stained eyes had grown incredibly keen. 

Jack nodded thoughtfully, then turned gracefully on one foot like a dancer, strutting back up to the pilot's seat.  "I have to warn you, Sasha…we're going after that treasure, but it's going to take awhile, and the first part of this trip isn't going to be very comfortable.  If you're ready to do whatever it takes and get your hands dirty, I'll take you with us, but I can't promise you'll be safe."

She nodded, then sat down abruptly in one of the cabin seats, aft of the cockpit.

"What are we waiting for?"

Jack grinned at her, initiating the transformation sequence to get the craft airborne again, thrusters angling and firing up.    
The Quicksilver lifted off, chasing after the receding darkness, finally ready for a fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised that Jack and Pitch would meet in this chapter, but the plot got in the way. Many apologies. X3 But it'll have to happen in Chapter 3: Captive. 
> 
> :D Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by these awesome pictures by fanartdrawer on tumblr! ---> http://fanartdrawer.tumblr.com/post/51698366727/ and http://fanartdrawer.tumblr.com/post/51820269638/ 
> 
> I am producing plot right and left for this fic, I have lots of scifi world-building I am excited to extrapolate upon. 
> 
> In the next chapter, Jack and Pitch meet, and it remains to be seen in the end who exactly gets the upper hand. ;)


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